Incy Wincy Spider - 1. The Story

Prompt 575

You woke up and were running late to work. As you run out the door, you hit the button on your key fob to unlock your car door and stop cold. Your car is covered in spider webs. Turning to run back into your house you see it is also covered in hundreds of webs and there are spiders everywhere you look. What happened?

“Do you mind!”

Dave Harrison stopped dead in his tracks, almost leaving rubber scorch marks on the floor. He was late for work, again. He listened hard, turning his head from side to side, trying to locate the source of the voice.

Where the fuck had that come from? Suppose he'd better investigate? He couldn't really afford the delay but then… there was only him living in the semi. His most recent boyfriend had upped and gone a couple of months back, and he'd yet to find a replacement. So who the fuck was talking?

OK, he'd been out on his own the previous night, drinking vodka shots – marmalade, and toffee fudge flavoured vodka shots – in the local, non-gay nightclub. Not a clever thing to do on a weekday night, maybe, but he always knew when to stop. Or, he thought he did. Maybe somebody had spiked one of them? What else could explain the fact that he was standing in his own porch, listening out for an imaginary voice?

After a night on the tiles, he always made sure he drank plenty of water before he fell into bed. And he'd just had a reasonably sensible breakfast, eaten at ninety miles an hour admittedly. So, nothing different from any other mid-week boozing session.

Dave decided he couldn't delay any longer – he daredn't risk being late for the second time that week, auditory hallucinations or not. There was a restructure looming and he was buggered if he was going to give those tossers in management any reason to single him out.

His hand reached out to open the outside door and then he realised, he'd been about to clear the spider's web from the door handle when he'd heard the voice. He had nothing against spiders as a rule. In fact, he was really quite soft – he never deliberately killed any, preferring instead to evict them into the garden. He looked at the cobweb more closely. It was almost as if it'd been done there on purpose. Stupid place to do it. His hand poised to swipe away the web.

“Did you not hear me the first time? I'm not something you can just brush aside.” A sharpish, female voice with the faintest Scottish brogue assaulted his ears.

Dave's tongue seemed to act on its own. “What the fuck? Am I really still that shitfaced?” He processed what he'd just 'heard'. A woman's voice? When had the last female crossed over his threshold? He couldn't think. Bloody ages ago, most like.

“Mind your language, young man.” Same female voice. Same level of admonishment.

That command was followed by a deep male voice, coming from behind him. “If you know what's good for you, you'll listen carefully.”

Dave spun round, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny of the porch for a spy camera, some sign of a hidden audio feed. Zulf and that wanker Pete must've set up something, though god only knew when they'd managed to sneak in and do it. Knowing them, there'd be a live video feed on the web somewhere, showing him at his early morning best. Office humour at its finest in action. Well, fuck them!

“You think I'm gonna play along, do you? No fuckin' way! I'll sort the pair of you out later.”

He gave the unseen camera the finger and then spun back round to the door. He slammed it back on its hinges as a way of venting his anger before he ran towards the car. Only, he didn't run anywhere. He couldn't.

Stretched across the whole of the doorway was one ginormous, concentric spider's web with its owner / occupier sitting right in the middle. Dave felt his grip on reality had suddenly slackened … In fact, hadn't he just completely let go of it? What the fuck was happening? His wildly swivelling eyes suddenly latched onto the sight of the spider's legs for some reason. Maybe it was the colouring? He wouldn't mind having those tawny orange and black stripes on a pair of football socks.

His free-falling thoughts were interrupted by another female voice – quite stern and authoritarian. “And where do you think you're going?”

He could actually see the spider talking to him this time. He didn't like to think how large it was. So, were the other voices also talking spiders? This was a nightmare. He was still high on whatever they'd spiked his drink with.

Dave pinched his arm hard, several times, but it didn't make any difference. “Err … out. I've gotta get to work. … Please?”

Perhaps some fucking terrorist had released a weapons-grade hallucinogen? He was trying to catch a glimpse of next-door through the gaps in the web when he heard the voice behind him again.

“We're in charge now. Spiders, that is. You'd better get used to it, very quickly.” He turned round slowly and saw what he'd missed the first time – a large, brown, hairy house spider, poised at his feet. “I can make it close-up and personal, if you'd like? Oh, and if you're wondering, you're being treated very well. The light touch, seeing as you're one of the favoured…”

Dave couldn't stop himself from shivering slightly. He'd never really touched a spider and he didn't want to start now.

The house spider continued. “Though you came pretty close to screwing up with your antics just." It glared at Dave before looking sideways. "You all right, love?”

Dave looked around until he saw a smaller spider with a pale grey abdomen surface round the edge of the door.

“No thanks to him. I ache bloody everywhere.”

Dave felt compelled to apologise – not something he normally dreamt of doing. “Err… sorry about that. Didn't mean to… err… ehm. I was in a hurry.”

The grey spider scowled at him. “So you should be. Do you have any idea how long it'll take me to redo that web?”

Dave took the question as being one of those which didn't need an answer. He returned to what the house spider had said – he was being treated leniently? He swallowed nervously and turned back to face the outer door. Peering through the gaps in the web once again, he tried to see what was happening next-door. This time, he spotted activity. A couple of men dragged a large, wrapped package out of the front door towards a refrigerated van. A large, body-shaped package. The wrapping looked suspiciously like spider silk.

A half-stifled gasp nearly turned into terrified gibbering when he took in the burly hulk of numerous, supervising house spiders. Several mean-looking, zebra striped spiders were standing guard, ready to squash any signs of trouble. He'd noticed that species before and remembered they moved as fast as fuck. As the men struggled to get a proper hold on the package, he thought he saw the cocooned contents twitch. Really? An elbow spasmed this time, denting the tightly-wound covering. Dave's stomach threatened to regurgitate his breakfast, but he managed just about to hang onto it. A small amount of bile burned its way along into his nasal cavities.

Fuck! Was that Mrs White? The old biddy always screamed the place down whenever the smallest spider made an appearance. He'd heard her often enough – the walls weren't exactly thick. She usually insisted that Geoff Whateverisnamewas, from over the road, came and despatched them. Dave didn't want to dwell on what might be happening to him. His stomach lurched again.

“Getting the general idea, are you?” the house spider added conversationally. Dave nodded meekly, without turning round.

“Mind, you're on probation after that door stunt you just pulled.” This from the spider dangling right in front of him.

Dave gulped nervously. He was sweating quite badly. Cold and clammy, it trickled down the side of his face. God, was he ever going to wake up? Snap out of it?

His tongue took over again. “Err… I'd still like to get to work, please? If that's OK with you?” Pleading with fucking spiders?

The sickening image of the twitching bundle remained burned on his retinas. He certainly didn't want to get on their wrong side. Not if that was the possible result.

He thought he'd better get things clear. “And … and, if I should kill or injure a spider? By accident, of course – I've never killed any of you in cold blood.” Dave cringed as he asked the question. His right ankle pulsed with a sharp pain. “Owh! Fuck.”

He looked down at the floor.

A gesticulating, zebra striped spider glared back. “I can jump a lot higher than that. Wasn't really trying that time." Dave tried not to imagine huge, pointed teeth. The spider continued, "That's just a foretaste, a promise, of what'll happen to you if an accident occurs. Personally speaking, I'd love to suck you dry. What a feast – young, juicy, delicious food.”

Blood fled Dave's brain. He nearly keeled over but managed to grab hold of the coat hooks to keep himself upright. A flailing foot disturbed the web of a spider hidden in the skirting board. It came out to investigate – large, black, and angry. It brandished the remnants of the web at Dave, then ran up the outside of his trouser leg and onto his shirt. Dave peered down. The metallic green of the spider's fangs glinted in the early morning sunshine. They were aimed at the base of his neck.

Shit, shit, shit! Could it get any fucking worse? The vision of Mrs White came back to remind him that it could get ever so much worse. He tried to control his breathing – a panic attack was the last thing he wanted. Slowly… in, out, in, out.

He managed to find his voice again although it started with an embarrassing squeak. “Ah… Err… Sorry, I lost my balance. It was an accident, entirely unintentional.”

The cold sweats started up again. If he ever got to work – if work still existed – he'd stink. Why the fuck did he keep on thinking about work? It was the least of his worries. Those teeth meant business and their owner didn't look as if it was going anywhere.

Behind him, the house spider broke some of the tension. “Well, that's another penalty point added to your total. At this rate, it won't be long before you're in a nice, comfy, all-enveloping hammock, having a nice, refreshing sleep. Refreshing for us, that is. Hmm … wonder what you'd taste like?”

Dave wondered if he could hear it licking its lips. Did spiders even have lips? He turned his attention back to the specimen clinging onto his shirt. The green fangs slowly retreated as the spider reluctantly made its way back down to the floor. Dave took a breath. He was surrounded, yet even his scattered wits told him that the stand-off couldn't go on indefinitely.

He took his courage in both hands. “What's going to happen now? I--”

“Well," The house spider sounded obnoxiously cheerful. "That is a good question, isn't it?”

Dave turned round to face the large, brown spider as it seemed to be the one in charge. The one he needed to please, to impress the most. The zebra striped, jumping spider was bloody aggressive but not the most dangerous. If anything, it followed orders rather than giving them – the snapshot from next-door seemed to confirm that. He could do without provoking it again, though – the area around his ankle was numb. He imagined the whole of him feeling that way and wished he hadn't.

Dave forced himself to think clearly. Negotiating wasn't anything he'd ever had to do before. Yet, here he was – bargaining for his life with a fucking insect. Any hope that this was some sort of aberration had vanished. He didn't want end up like Mrs W. Was the poison reversible? Even if it was, it didn't sound as though there'd be much time in between it happening and him being… what, harvested? His cold sweats continued unabated.

He swallowed and tried an ingratiating smile. “I'd like to be useful. In fact, you'll definitely find me useful. Indispensable.” Was that too much? He tried to sound confident, offering himself as a valuable, thinking, live commodity.

“Hmm… we're all ears.” Faint Scottish accent again.

A wave of sniggering hung poised over Dave. Restless chuckles camped out in his throat. He couldn't help it. Pictures of spiders with cartoon ears paraded through his head, but they were swiftly overwritten by images of murderous spiders with monstrous fangs. The hysterical urge quickly faded away. He coughed instead, cleared his throat and tried to focus.

“Well, I'm young, healthy…” He thought of earlier. “I can drive.” Words poured out of him. “Trustworthy, adaptable, enterprising, teamworker, numerate – these are some of my many qualities and attributes. I can both follow instructions and work to my own plans…”

Strange how good a liar he was becoming under pressure. He'd coasted the past few years – happy enough in his secure, undemanding job, becoming sluggish and time-serving.

“I'm good at looking at things differently …” Imagination? He barely had any thoughts beyond his own immediate needs. Maybe that was why his boyfriends never hung around that long? Self-analysis wasn't a speciality of his. Dave's mouth dried. He couldn't think of anything else to say. 'I don't want to die' wouldn't cut it. Pity, because it was the most burning reason he had to survive.

Dave stood in his own porch, dumbly awaiting an answer. From a spider.

The house spider suddenly ran up the wall and settled on one of the coat hooks. It regarded him with a world-weary expression. “OK… Do you have any idea how many times we've heard exactly the same rubbish being spouted? We don't give a toss about any of it, except the driving. Arachnids rule. We think, we decide, we run everything as we think it should be run. All without any input whatsoever from you lot.”

Dave clung onto the 'driving', it was his only hope.

“Right. We'll let you outside. Go straight to your car and wait for the spiders who've been guarding it to get inside. Then you'll get your instructions. Understood?”

Dave nodded like his life depended on it. He turned around to face the outer door just as the spider in the centre of the web there lowered the guy ropes. The web gradually sank until it was possible for him to step over it. He did so very, very carefully and then hurried off to his car.

When he got to it, he stopped and stared – his beloved, totally impractical, pillar-box red sports car was covered in cobwebs. A shroud which obscured almost everything. As he peered at their creators, he realised they were the same grey specimens as the one on the front door he'd unwittingly tried to flatten earlier. He hoped they hadn't heard.

“So, you're the thug, are you?” said one. Its sentiments echoed round the car.

Ah… not a good start. “It was an accident. I'm clumsy… err… I didn't--”

The spider who seemed to be in charge, interrupted. “Yeah, yeah. Get in the car. We haven't got all day. There's plenty more people to be picked up.”

Could he hear sniggering? It seemed to ripple round the car. He gulped again and his knees suddenly felt a little weak. He automatically put a hand out to steady himself on the car's roof and then withdrew it in a flash before it'd made contact. Fuck, that was close! The spiders' sniggering doubled in volume. Bastards!

Webs were taken down. The driver's door cleared. Dave carefully opened it and clambered inside. His instinct was to start it up and flee, but, as he looked in the rear-view mirror, he realised there were enough spiders inside to deal with him, should the need arise. He sat there, tense and anxious, waiting for all the spiders to get a move on. What was taking them so fucking long? His right knee twitched nervously, causing his leg to flex. He watched it happening as if from a distance – his body seemed to be reacting exactly as it wanted to, without any reference to his brain.

Come on! Surely they were all inside by now? He turned the ignition key, hearing the roar of the engine as he revved it. The deep, throaty sound was something that always got his heart racing, only not now. Why was he so keen to get started? It was only going to be taking him from one nightmare to another. … No, he wasn't going to give up, he wasn't. Though why, who the fuck knew …

Finally. Dave did a quick look around the outside of the car, or the bits he could see, at least. All clear. Right, he wanted to be off, in control of something, even if it was for the last time. Without waiting for the instructions, he put the car into reverse, backed out of his drive and then set off towards the main road at speed. He ignored the growing clamour from the spiders behind him. Suddenly, he noticed a spider on the opposite wing mirror, clinging on for dear life. Fuck! Fuck, fuck … He tried to brake slowly, carefully, but his right leg had another spasm. The tyres screeched as his foot slammed on the brakes, and he watched the spider's grey body flying through the air as the car lurched to a complete stop.

Dave sat slumped at the wheel, speechless. Defeated. Why hadn't he waited? Followed instructions?… More fresh meat awaiting collection and delivery. What would he taste like? Something fucking awful, hopefully …

Dramatis aranei (in order of appearance)

Garden cross spider (Araneus diadematus)

House spider (Tegenaria spp.)

Missing-sector orb weaver (Zygiella spp.)

Common zebra spider (Salticus scenicus)

Bronzed tube web spider (Segestria florentina)